


Something More

by InherentInTheHumanCondition



Series: Gifts [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: (Changed Archive Warning - Because I was told it wasn't needed.), Canon-Typical Homophobia, Canon-Typical Racism, Check Notes for More Characters., Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, From Cartman, From the McCormick's, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV First Person, Panic Attacks, Through Craig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 03:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21331303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InherentInTheHumanCondition/pseuds/InherentInTheHumanCondition
Summary: To fall in love only to learn of its existence the moment it dies.Kyle's face softens, it looks like pity. Just like when Kenny had no idea, I existed, let alone in the manner he exists for me.“Whatever is going on,” Kyle gestures in my direction. “We both know Craig that you like to hide behind a stoic attitude. One that right now is doing nobody, least of all you, any good.”“I- think I’m skipping class.”“Should we wait?” Stan's question causes me to pause, fiddling with my hat flaps in thought.I hate this realization; that everything is not OK. And no amount of understanding change's the fact hiding only signifies there is something to hide from. And walls do not work when what you fear lives inside.With a heavy sigh, I speak. “Yeah, see you at lunch.”Because, all it takes is one person with the right knowledge to remove a brick, and the whole thing you built crumbles around you.“I dream,” Kenny says, his tone soft.(A fic written for OmissionSoul's "The Boy In The Mirror".)
Relationships: Kenny McCormick/Craig Tucker
Series: Gifts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996117
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	1. A Little Lost, A Little Found

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OmissionSoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmissionSoul/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Boy In The Mirror](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10955709) by [OmissionSoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmissionSoul/pseuds/OmissionSoul). 

> This has been sitting in my google since September, 13 of 2018 in rough draft mode. Finally decided to polish it up this October, and have it beta'd this month, but now it's finally ready! Woo! 
> 
> Anyway, I like to consider this a love letter to OmissionSoul amazing story, for without it I could never have written this one. 
> 
> So, if you haven't read their amazing Crenny story 'The Boy In The Mirror,' what are you even doing here? Because you'll miss out on a fantastic story, and honestly, Craig and Kenny's emotional and mental states won't make a lick of sense if you don't.
> 
> (Tweek Tweak, Leopold Butters Stotch, Jimmy Jalmer, Red(sp), Bebe Stevens are also present. But, I did not was to clog the Tags up. If you all want I can tag them. I just figured they only speak a few times in a small Flashback. Red X Bebe is also found here.)

\-- Kyle --

Out in the busy hallway, my names called. Stepping from behind my locker, I spot Kyle waving me down.

Curious why he seeks me out. A quick glance around tells me he’s alone, astonishingly. His posse; Leopold, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman are not trailing beside, or somewhere behind him.

In the past couple of months, since Kenny’s return, Stan and Kyle have not left his side. It’s as if at any moment they fear he won’t be there. Even going as far as walking him to and from his home and job.

After shutting the locker and shoving my books into the guts of a fading, blue, solar system backpack. The need to turn and leave vibrates through me.

“Kyle,” My tone meets a brick wall, as he catches up.

The guy looks nervous. It’s not a trait I've seen in the time we’ve gotten to know one another, and something about him being nervous makes me uneasy.

Kyle gives a smile, and bites his lip as he stops to take a breather. And like always he cuts no corners with what is to become a lecture.

“I have observed, noted, and acknowledged that you’ve pulled away from Kenny. -”

I cut him off there, wanting to hear no more, “Don’t know what you mean, sorry.” of whatever Kyle feels he needs to bury his nose in.

Turning away, I’m suddenly grasped by slender, petite fingers around my forearm; with more intensity than expected. Before being yanked back hard enough that my balance wavers under me.

Turning, with a glare, I'm practically growling me words. “Back off Broflovski, whatever you have to say, leave it the fuck alone.”

It is the wrong choice of words by the obstinance written all over Kyle's face, and his own increasing irritants with this situation; or he wouldn't have brought it up in the first place.

“No Craig, I will not leave it alone, Kenny has been our friend all our lives. Now you are our friend as well. Unless we have been mistaken this whole time.”

Dropping my shoulder from their agitated and threatening height. I realize that I've hurt him pretty badly with my need to bury this increasing confusion and anguish.

“Look, it’s just... better for-”

His nose scrunches up and Kyle giving me a heavy look before interrupting, “Better, for whom? A couple of months ago, you were tagging along with Kenny for lunch, and all appeared fine. He even informed us you did not fault him.”

“I don’t!" I snap, feeling as if I'm on trial for crimes I've not committed.

A need to get away from Kyle and these questions, his demands, is screaming inside me.

Again, the thoughts I’ve been attempting to shove down my throat for weeks come up as if they were stuck on a combat or fright experience.

My head's starting to hurt, again.

Running my hand upward, under my hat, and through my hair, I continue on regardless, “I just...” the words I wish to get out stick in the back of my throat. Stagnant like toxic sludge, begging me for sweet release, but I’m unable to let go.

Kyle's face softens, it looks like pity and I can feel anger starting to get the better of me.

“Whatever’s going on,” He gestures in my direction. “We both know you Craig. You like hide behind this stoic attitude. One that right now that's doing nobody, least of all you, any good.”

Flipping him off, I walk away and this time he doesn’t stop me.

Thinking about it now. If there’s one thing you learn from hanging out with this group, they all have their flaws. Take Kyle, for example. He's a hothead who acts like he’s better than you, well, at least some of the time he does.

Still, he’s the first person to offer to help you study; in a way you can understand best. Time and time again he’s shown he cares deeply for those who he considers in his circle of friends.

Even when faced with Eric Cartman, deemed to be mortal frenemy.

So, even though Kyle Broflovski is a know it all jerk, and so far, unthroned, it’s because he’s always proven in the long run to be correct.

_Not everything is ok. Hiding only signifies there is something to hide from. And walls do not work when what you fear lives inside. Because all it takes is one person with the right knowledge to remove a brick, and the whole thing you built crumbles around you._

\-- Cartman --

“Hey! Piss baby coming to lunch with us or what?” A voice calls out. One I wish I did not know.

Without turning towards the person. I continue on out of the class we share and down the hall.

For the second time this day, somebody grabs me by the forearm. This time it takes the last of my dwindling strength not to turn around and pop the little weasel in the face.

“What’s in it for you, Cartman?" My tone, bitter and warning.

He’s the one person I’ve resigned myself to hang out with. The one I never, nor will I ever consider a friend.

Cartman laughs, brushing off my warning like a insect. Pudgy fingers gripping harder. Is he attempting to prove he’s stronger than me?

“No reason. I simply find it laughable you are ignoring poor boy, again.” 

Turning around a heated death glare, I rip my arm away. “Fuck off Cartman. The McCormick’s have been living in the same neighbourhood your mother has for the last past year.”

Self-satisfying pride rears its ugly head; when Cartman's own cruel filled gaze falls away in anger.

“Fuck you, Tucker! I don’t fucking care what anybody thinks! That family is still a bunch of abusive, drug selling, alcoholic, tweakers!"

Instantly, regret fills Cartman's face, maybe even shame. Who knows with this jackass. Could be shame for saying untrue shit in anger, or regret for saying what he believed in a place where anybody could hear.

“Nice going, jackass. You’re a real good fucking person.” Sneering, “Class A friend, dude. Fuck off.”

Turning away, I wish I couldn’t hear Cartman screeching at me, “Fuck Tucker, Fuck you! At least I’m there for him! You piss poor excuse for a pinging, scared, shitless, faggot!” 

This reason for being so upset at Cartman's speech, at myself, and ignoring Kenny. It cuts deeper now more than ever. I wish to the universe above I did not understand the truth of why so long ago a cold, unseen hand slapped me in the face with Kenny’s question.

_"Who's... who's that?"_

This all too real and horrifying conclusion, I am faced with when around Eric Cartman, tells me the act held no substance, until then. Had it been Cartman who fucked me over. I would have punched him in the face and been done with the problem.

But, oh no. It had to be someone I had come to know. To understand, to feel a part of. To get close to, and -

\-- Stan --

“Hey man, wait up, are you ok, dude?”

Not turning, I slow down to let Stan catch up. I hope he’s not here to get my view on the gossip he's heard about my earlier argument. Although, I am certain he is aware of the details. Small schools are shit for secrets.

“I’m fine -” I try to play it off as nothing- “Just another day dealing with Cartman’s crap.”

“Dude, we heard him full out screaming at you from down the hall.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, and a couple more fuck's in an attempt to make it all feel better. Fat fucking chance. Next time I come face to face with that fat bastard, I am going to kick his ass to the moon.

Gritting my teeth, I try to calm myself. My cultivated, relaxed self with no cares in the world, is rigid with my full height. Once more, I have grounds to officially fucking hate small schools.

It’s bad enough knowing Cartman’s ranting and raving at the top of his lungs would at some point reach them. A vague hope, until then, still in me that the telephone line would somehow shit all over the reality of his words. It was worse hearing that a certain someone had been present, and had certainly understood the smallest significance of that argument.

“Hey man, I’m pretty sure even if we hadn’t, Kyle could sense a disruption in the force.”

Unable to help myself. Stan’s words break the building tension. And I find myself laughing.

We’re both aware Kyle is not the reason I’m ‘spooked’ to learn this. The fact he even bothers to bring me away from the real reason, is nice.

It’s one of the reasons I like Stan the most. Well second-most. He is unlike Kyle or Cartman; both ready to throw you into a fire for sacrifice or to throw the crap you wish to forget, in your face.

He understands that sometimes you need to step away and collect yourself. In some twisted fucking up way, ignoring the problem, however, is like experiencing a knife lodged deep in my chest. Only to have it taken out and shoved back in the wrong way.

“I- think... I’m skipping class.”

“Should we wait?”

His question causes me to pause, fiddling with my hat flaps in thought. Even when the bell chimes, neither of us moves from the ground we're rooted too.

_I hate this realization. It is the fact, that no amount of understanding change's something unfixable. And this bothers me to my core. To know it no longer or never has been just my reality twisted into lies._

__

__

_A singular understanding not yet accepted consciously has left me with a profound sense of loss. For something, at that moment. I hadn't known existed._

A heavy sigh. “Yeah, see you at lunch.”

\-- Food Fight --

_To fall in love only to learn of its existence the moment it dies._

I imagined it is how my mother felt about her many attempts to give birth to her own child. Before finally adopting me or at least, that’s how I believe she felt.

Recently, I asked if she would trade in all her moments with me for a chance to never have felt those losses. I don’t recall a time before seeing her cry so hard, in all the years of being a part of this family.

The Kenny, who protected me. The Kenny who watched me sleep like the little creep he is. Yet covered me up at night, and kissed me on my head like someone capable of emotions. Who turned my lights off when I left them on or sat with me like any normal 'decent' teenager, who put my feelings first. It may not have been this Kenny, tripping Cartman and laughing. As the guy falls and spills his lunch all over himself.

But I’ll never forget my mother’s response. She told me she’d never trade a single instant of loss, because they are all hers, given to her by God, to experience. So, she would be ready to give her all to a child who needed it more.

This constant thought of what is or isn’t real. Who possessed whom? It doesn’t matter in the end. The demon pretending to be Kenny hadn’t realized it stopped being inhuman, to give me a moment with something real, to me. Something, which made me love.

“F-fuck you pieces of shit, which one of you shitbags fucking tripped me!” Cartman, who’s on the verge of tears, yells. “Stop laughing and help me up, Kahl!” Shoving his tray off himself, and shaking his wet hands, in disgust.

“No way, fatass, you got yourself in this, you get yourself out.” Smirkinh at the end of his words.

“Fuck you, stupid ass, Jew!” Cartman screeches, picking up his tray. “I know it was you, Kinny, you possessed faggot!”

Standing far enough away, I watch Cartman chuck his tray in what I assumed to be Kenny’s direction. It misses Kyle, instead, by a few inches, spreading out the group laughing, as they dive to get out of its path.

Unluckily, for Clyde, our resident playboy/actual sappy romantic, he never sees it coming, not even as it trips him.

oken holding the back of his jersey saves Clyde the embarrassment of a fall. Not, however, from landing face-first into his lunch tray.

For a moment, guilt and regret eat away for a whole new reason. Neither of them knows what’s up, and yet I’ve chosen to avoid them, as well.

**“FOOD FIGHT!”******

** **** **

** **** **

And the moment is lost in the aftermath of these words.

Mayhem explodes from one side of the cafeteria to the next. Before familiar hands bring a second of panic, as that day flashes through my mind. Their palms flush against my shoulders. Long slightly fingers crooked, slide over the top and hold against my collarbone. Before I can yank myself away, and run, the ground below me shifts.

One moment I'm standing watching the pandemonium, the next, the middle of my back hits the cafeteria table, as I find myself on the floor.

A second later, a tray of food clatters like thunder in a sloppy mist of sauce and noodles, spreading over the bottom of my jeans.

My gaze wanders in the direction the tray must have come from, in slow motion.

“Holy shit,” the words bleed out without thought.

A realization hits me; that it would have rearranged my head had I still been over there.

Trying to clear the cloud-like fog trickling back into my mind, my gaze returns to the upside-down tray. Not long after, those same tanned hands that have both saved me and hurt me, are now picking it up, and shaking it clean.

Looking away from the mess on the floor, where the tray no longer lays. My gaze follows up the hands to a brand-new orange Parka; up the arm, across a chest, passed a fluff of brown fur, to a slightly freckled face.

“You looked a little lost, buddy.” The tone is warm like the summer sun, playful, and sweet like just a dab of honey in my tea.

Kenny’s right, and I don’t know why. It’s frustrating to the point I want to punch myself, or somebody else; in hopes it will help. Instead, I agree, my head moving as my gaze falls to his lips, as he speaks, again.

“So, hope you don’t mind me helping ya out there.” Kenny's smile that usually lights up his face is plastered on. Before it all but drops, as he sets the tray in my hands.

Without a word, I turn away; something dragging me from his kindness once again. Precisely as I do, a few light drops of wetness and something gooey and stringy decorates the side of my face and hat. Followed by something slapping and squishy, meeting an immovable force, behind me, and to the right.

This snaps me out of whatever the fuck that was, as I turn to find Kenny; a face full of spaghetti. Its heavy bits sliding down to rest in his lap.

Pressing my lips together, laughter threatens to spill over, at the vivid look of disgust on his face.

Nearby, I’m sure it’s Stan, who calls out. “OMG, CARTMAN YOU KILLED KENNY!”

Followed by Kyle’s. “YOU, BASTARD!”

Their rolling laughter and odd choice of phrases, have me in joyous tears. Before I even realized how badly I needed this moment.

“Ha-ha, laugh it up, Tucker.”

Straightening up at Kenny’s words, and lighter than I have felt all day. A mischievous playfulness overcomes me. “All’be sure to put flowers on your grave.”

“Any more monotone, Tucker, and I’ll feel like you don’t genuinely care.” Kenny grins, taking a handful of the food from his lap, and tosses it at me.

Prepared, this time for the onslaught, I place the tray between us, and manoeuvrer myself so that we are face to face. My carefully planned position, however, has one big flaw; it leaves me open to an attack from the rear.

A carton of milk decks me fair and square in the back of my head. My eyes widen a horrifying sound tearing up my throat, as cold liquid rushes down my back, and oozes into my jacket, and shirt below. The smell makes me gag.

Kenny, however, doesn’t spare me. He laughs so hard, he slips on the filthy floor, and lands on his butt.

**“WHAT IN SAM-HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE?”**

Both of us stop dead, before slowly turning on the spot to the woman's enraged shouting. The principal is now standing, face as red as Kyle's hair, at the open doors of the cafeteria.

Shortly after, my gaze catches something more terrifying than the ugly expressions she makes. Above her on the door frame hanging on for dear life is a glob of something I do not believe even Kenny would call food. I cringe as it drops a second later.

The whole cafeteria gets ten times quieter. Except the few who do not fear death, like Kenny, as they burst into laughter.


	2. Of Fears & Decision's

Mumbling into his zipped, and string pulled Parka. I’m pretty sure Kenny’s muffled words had something to do with two weeks of detention duty, and how it would suck. But unlike the other guys I did not grow up with Kenny’s childhood Parka talk. So, my guess is as good as aluminium foil

A parka, he spent the after-hours of his fun with half the school, getting spaghetti noodles, and sauce out of his fur hood. Lucky for Kenny, his jacket, unlike my own hoodie, is water-resistant. Even after a quick shower, and change into my gym clothes, I still reek of milk; disgusting.

And unlike him, Stan and I were forced to wear our dark blue sweats. Black, or Stan's case white under-shirt, and a blue and white gym jacket. Stan’s own clothing having been covered in head to toe with everything known to a teenager lunch.

“Shut up, Ken, you got no room to bitch man. Your still dressed all fucking cozy. Plus, you got your job. She can’t make you skip that shit for clean-up duty.” Stan answers, informing me I had been correct.

Cartman, who somehow came out sparkling fresh with Kyle, speaks up. “We're lucky that bitch even let us clean up.”

“It would be political suicide if she allowed our clothing to stain. And I always inform you to bring an extra set of clothing. It appears Eric is only one of you three, to listen for once.”

“HA! HAHAHA-ouch, fuck you, Khal!”

Ignoring the two, I catch Kenny’s shrug, as they get into it, again, leaving Stan to bust it up.

Pulling down the front of his Parka, a lopsided grin forms as Kenny catches me staring, and bumps shoulders with me.

“What do you think?” His tone is soft, and his voice low.

I’m not overly concerned, honest, well except. “I feel bad for Butters.”

Not knowing Butters super well, my mistake. I have come to read him better through Kenny, and their friendship. Including, that his home life is not as happy as the kid himself is. Grounded, might even be the guys' middle name for as much as I see him from day to day. And after today’s mess we might be lucky to peek at him through his window when his parents are at work.

Glancing over at me from behind his closed Parka, his ‘mood’ suddenly becomes serious, but before he can speak-

“You know what, fuck ya’guys. Your gon’a be just fine!” Cartman throws down his hands, to make what he says more dramatic. “My last names start with a C.”

“Suck it up, Fatass.” Kyle snaps back. A vein pounding to his rising blood pressure just under the edge of his hat, but remains on the other side of Stan now.

“Shut u-” Cartman starts up for round two, but Stan speaks up over him. “Dude, I believe you, and Kyle got it lucky.”

We turn to him, as I’m unsure what he implies.

Stan gives a sheepish shrug before he speaks. “Well, you know exactly when your turn starts, I guess. Unlike the rest of us back passed the M’s, who will be unable to make any big plans until our two weeks come up, and end.”

Kyle smiles at him, as he reaches over to zip the rest of Stan’s jacket up.

Turning to Kenny’s snickering, he reaches up, and places a finger to his lips, an all-knowing smirk behind it.

When I don’t react, he unbundles his Parka, and begins making faces at me.

My face heats up, followed by my annoyance in the realization that he doesn’t intend to respond to my unspoken question.

Turning away, not getting what I want, I continue on ahead of the group towards the bus area.

\---

Getting in line, a hand takes me by the one reaching for the bus. Startled by the sudden, and bold move, I twist, and find Kenny staring at me, with an unreadable expression. 

Their hand, that has been hiding in winter pockets, is warm compared to mine. Nonetheless, it still leaves goosebumps along my arms, and a chill down my spine.

“See you guys, come on, Craig,” pulling me away from the bus, as he speaks.

Out of the corner of my eye, Stan, and Kyle glance at one another. However, Kenny pulls us away too fast for me to interpret their expressions. Though, what they know, I’m sure I’m about to find out.

With a wave behind us, Kenny finally lets my hand go, to have better leverage to unzip his Parka.

A piece of me wants to use this chance to turn back around, and get on the welcoming bus.

However, against my queasy unease of what this could be about, I continue along. My curiosity piqued.

A small burning feeling of joy at the two of us together after so long is more powerful than the knowledge of freezing my balls off; or the whispers of fear turning my stomach.

“Here,” Kenny speaks up. His breath white from the heat, in the cold air, as his Parka greets me in his outstretched hand.

Cartman screams profanity of gayness, from behind us, along with something about us growing some balls. Before the sound of somebody hitting him.

“Kenneth J.Ken McCormick do not catch a cold being a gentleman now!” Kyle speaks up right afterward. His tone teasing, and yet deadly serious. “Oh, and have fun, be safe, and remember to use protection!”

Choking on spit in disbelief that Kyle would announce to the world such an embarrassing statement. I hear Kenny at my side make a noise that sounds similar to horror.

Offence might have been something I felt at the sound he produces, however, the real Kenny, I have found, is one of the few people who doesn't worry themselves with what a filter is. He will flirt with anything, and everything, including me. Something Stan has made a point to tell me his best friend genuinely means.

Not to mention, my new problems with all these new hormonal images Kyles has been so kind as to treat me too.

Glaring over my shoulder, I flip him off. Kyle, however, is no longer paying attention. Too busy pushing Cartman into the bus.

Stan, on the other hand, is still there watching us. A look on his face that gives me a touch of something in the pit of my stomach, other than fear. Possibly a sense of pride, or relief that everything is going to be OK, and a stupid smile creeps in.

Continuing forward, so I don’t succeed in tripping, and falling, for real, I straighten out in what I hope is a neutral expression.

My hands find their way to my hat’s flaps, pulling them down as if it’s the cold that I desire to hide from, instead of what I feel gives me away. Before turning back to Kenny, and taking the Parka, he’s been holding out without; a word, as I arrive at my decision.

“Uh, thanks,” not even bothering to ask if Kenny’s sure he’ll be OK without it. He’s wearing that familiar faded orange hoodie under, after all.

\-- I Dream --

For a while, nothing, just a haunting silence, in the wake of Kenny’s, suddenly changed mood, from earlier. It jumps, and frizzles my nerves like strings being burnt away. 

“You know -” my voice trails off to silence- “You will have to walk all the way back to work, I don’t want to be the reason you’re late.”

Other things stick to my tongue. What I am actually thinking, or the fact I’m worried that his siblings will freak out. Although, if he has work, then it’s possible they don’t expect to hear from him.

“You won’t. Don’t have work today,” Kenny replies, voice low, tone unreadable.

His voice makes my heart pick up with a flutter, as much as his presence at the moment has me on edge.

A time that seems so long ago now. Certain people, I refuse to call bullies, as well as friends, at my city school used to refer to me as the kid with no emotions. But, no matter what they said, I’ve always had them. I am human, despite what some may conceive.

Growing up in foster care, you, or at least I've learned to play stoic, to pretend not to care. It has saved me a good deal of hardships, and hurt that they could’ve used against me. Now it is a part of who I am.

Then I was ‘forced’ here, where weird shit is the norm, and my first greeting-

“I called in sick,” Kenny speaks up beside me, startling me out of thought.

I'm entirely too aware of the feeling of his eyes on me, as he says this. Something both an old, and fading feeling, and something new. An unknown growing on me. That brings this electric feeling, without that dark, heavy presence, it once did.

“Because I want to visit my second home. . . .”

The air around me becomes bursts of cloudy white. Heart in my throat, hands clammy, it’s sickening, I keep walking, his words hit me with the force of a brick.

“W-what? Wh-y?”

Months, and even my father has taken notice of my increasing reluctance. I fall asleep after them, and get up before them. All so I make it appear as though I have been in my room this whole time. 

It hurts to lie, but to speak the truth is worse. And now, after all this time, he wants to go back to a place I cannot run away from?

A hard surface, with cushion, blocks my way. Bouncing back from running into it, I'm ready to fight who, or whatever, has gotten in my path.

Instead, I find Kenny standing there, their shoulders less relaxed than I have seen them all day. His hands shoved in the front of his hood hard enough to deform it. Staring at me with worry, in seriousness, a realization he's made a mistake coming with me, seeing right through me, any of these could be it, just I don’t know.

“You never told me your side of the story,” after a minute or two of heavy silence, he talks.

‘I can’t. That’s impossible,’ these words screech inside.

Clammy hands tightening at my sides, start to shake. My gaze falls to the slushy side walk. Clouds of white from my breath fade away against spots of watery clear, and ugly muddy colours, as its sides of fluffy white spreading out from my view, into the banks around me.

Reaching out my cold numbing fingers meet the texture of wool, and the warmth of my hat. My thumb, and pointer rub against it in a calming manner, as I pull it down. An effort of mine to disappear into the warmth of its darkness. ‘No, no, just -’

Suddenly, a warmth mixed with the smell of sweets, Ax and cherry draws me out of my spiralling hole.

Brown, black, and white becomes my view, its soft texture tickling the sides of my face, and brow; causing me to recoil, at first. Somewhere, I believe I hear myself request not to be touched, or maybe it's Kenny, asking me?

I take a deep breath that burns its way nicely down my throat, and through my chest. No further contact, or words spoken in an effort to ease me, and I'm grateful. I need a few minutes to myself.

Hands, pet the soft texture of the hood’s trim, it is far more pleasing than the texture of wool, but not as grounding. But the weightiness of the whole parka, including the hood, is a new sensation that surrounds me in safety.

Taking breaths, petting, squeezing my eyes open, and shut. I don’t know how long we have been standing in the middle of the side walk, the air chilling further. A nervous shame attempts to replace fading feelings of what brought this panic on moments ago.

Instead, I attempt to read the small, colourful writing decorating the pink of Kenny's booted black toed converse. My gaze traces up, taking in the details of white laces against black. To his black, faded jeans with holes in the knees, and thighs. The slight breeze blowing the jeans strings not burned in an attempt to keep them from fraying further. Before, cataloguing the stains, faded spots, and deteriorating areas of his orange hoodie.

When the recognition I'm standing in front of my neighbour's house. Mine looming right there grips me with a cold terror.

My heart might pop out of my chest, with how hard I take the next breath.

Images of the time in that house with him, no that demon. The feeling of joy it brought me to have another look forward to my company. The touches of affection, every time we leaned into each other, with a tenderness I've never experienced before then. Shared between two people who were supposed to respect, and be true to one another.

Shattered to pieces by a truth that angers, and shames me.

I should have known better. 

I am not stupid. I notice things! 

I have just chosen the easy life where I only bother with the things that interest me. No matter what others think, or say, I do notice.

So, why did I not notice what made itself vividly present in that monster’s smile? A deadly edge beneath its tranquil waters? How could I not see how WRONG it was for Kenny to be so distant when his family was mentioned? How WRONG it felt when he was hesitant, allowing his friends in on him?

Why, does it all feel so real, and right in my face now?

Tears that burn my eyes, threatening to show my inner mess, spill.

“No...” I whisper. 

No, what? To the memories, Kenny’s request, or my overwhelming feelings.

A very tangible feeling tells me I need to turn away and run until my legs give out. But, I've wanted for so long to be right here, as they are at present.

So far, though, it has felt like a punch to the stomach all over again. Just like when Kenny had no idea, I existed, let alone in the manner he exists for me.

“I dream.” Kenny’s words have me jerking violently back.

Stumbling, as a nauseating dizziness, becomes a spreading pain across the back of my mind. Not even fear of slipping, and falling finds its way inside. As I try and get a hold of myself, my view blacking at the edges, my hand covers my mouth in an attempt to stop the sound that escapes.

How absolutely disgusting I must look in this instant.

The wind rushes past me. It feels like a hurricane of ice. Even in the coming of spring the wind burns against my raw cheeks. Selfishly, the rest of me betrays my need to remain silent. To lock it all away, and never remember. To never let those feelings free, because I don’t know how to be honest about them.

My legs are leaden, as is the rest of me. I’m tired of hiding away. Tired of running from the fears I have already lived through, and won against.

Kenny speaks, again, “Did you know that, Craig?”

Searching, something tells me there is more to his tone, more to his words, and yet I cannot think, cannot focus. Madding. Anger rushes in, yes, welcomed. I take hold, allowing it to wash away a fog with the pain of my nails embedded in my palm.

Lungs full of air, another, and another as I choke, gasp, and sway. Deeper, deeper, deeper until skin breaks in the plush of my palms.

“I don’t understand,” or ``I don’t want that false hope, not knowing, not ever. Especially so soon.

The odour of copper lingers on my hands, scrunching up my nose as I rub angrily at the wetness of my face.

Kenny disturbs the silence, and then there is nothing, all over again.

Until the wind picks up, the cold biting at the sparse of my sweats, and bare of my hands that still tremble from panic.

A car down the street beeps, somebody opens a door, and speaks on the phone. The little birds above, and around us chirp to one another. All these combining sounds filter through my auditory sensation like the crashing of the ocean waves against a cliff. Making me want to hold my hands over my ears, so it all disappears.

Heavy, stuttering, puffing, breath. A pain in my chest once a deep stabbing of an ice pick, numbs and smooths away the longer nothing happens. Stuttering, puffing, deep breaths start to form a recognizable calming rhythm.

Everything else melts away when a shuffling of feet slicked by wet snow sloshes against concrete. The swarms of white dissipate all at once. My growing headache pounds against my skull, and that light-headed dizziness returns.

With Kenny moving, I force my eyes closed, and yet I’m all too aware of every sound he makes. Part of me wants his touch, the rest wants him no closer. Yet the footsteps only go further and further away as they walk.

Confused, the panic still rippling beneath the surface becomes a numbing sadness. I asked for this. I wanted to drop this, and now I’m getting my wish.

So, why does it hurt? 

The click-clank of a familiar look. The haunting horror house squeak of my front door opening. The sound of shoes beating against the step.

“You coming?” His voice brings a sense of strength, missing.

Spinning around, I stare through another wave of dizziness.

At the door stands Kenny like it has been his home all along. And, perhaps it has, after two years of being stuck to it, asleep or not.

Cracking laughter bubbles out, I'm going crazy. I want to run off, I fucking do. Yet standing there watching me with sad, knowing, blue eyes, I'm nothing, but drawn to him.

Growing up, I had strict but a shortlist of wants. To live somewhere that did not make feel my existence a burden. To own a pet that would love me as I would love it. And to be seen, and to live as normally as any other kid. 

I don’t own a pet, then again, I’ve never asked for one, yet. Perhaps, I’ll change that this week. I am somewhere my existence is not a burden, but sought out. Why I wouldn’t call this, or my life from the moment I came here, normal. I wouldn’t say it’s not something to check off.

Holding my hand out, I waved him in, no need for words. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, and letting it all out I shove the hood away, and yank my hat off. The chill of evening feels great in that moment, like freedom.

Kenny stands there a moment longer looking out, as if he’s expecting me to high tail it out the moment his backs turned. Honesty, I’m so exhausted and my legs still wobbly like weighted lead that I wouldn’t make it two houses down, before collapsing.

When he gives me a grin, I bend forward for more breath, and flip him off.

“Don’t hurt yourself now.” He says lightly, laughing.

It’s nice that he hasn’t mentioned even now that whole embarrassing, and shameful moment as he proceeds with his jokes, and heads in.

\-- How Pretty You Are --

A moment or two afterward, something hits me. Fear, a new kind of fear. Not the kind I've been feeling for months now. Not even the one I experienced when face to face with that inhuman Kenny with black soulless eyes. 

My feet slide on the ice below. Barely remembering to hold on to my hat, as I’m running for the door.

Because what if-

“KENNY!?”

His name bursts out of me in new panic.

Plowing right into him, as he unties his shoe. Catching both us completely off guard, I stumble back.

“Holy shit!” Kenny says.

Like some brandy gymnast with no bones, he twists all while balancing on one foot, and reaches out to grab me from the front of his Parka; drawing both us back on the balance of two sturdy feet.

“Why are you yelling? Are you ok?” He stares at me, as if witnessing my death.

Fucking hell, emotional again, I choke up. I’m shaking all over, unable to form the necessary thoughts to answer the question myself.

“Oh shit-” His eyes widen at my actions, hands dropping from the front of the Parka, as he steps away.

I head butt him, because at the moment, I’m panicking; and it’s all my brain can think of to prevent him from stepping away. Why I attempt to lay my wants and needs before us.

The impact rattles my brain around a bit. It seems that’s all it needed to clear up my mind, just a good old delivering dose of real physical pain; to get some rational thought.

Kenny groans, face wrinkling up, as he shuts his eyes.

I'm startled from my staring by a hand that comes up to catch the side of my face. I keep still, chest holding a moment of breath in. Afraid to move away, and make him think the action disgusts me.

“That hurt, you know.”

Kenny face evens out, and brightens with life. A life I’ll never take for granted now that I know it’s a reality.

“I can feel that.”

These words whispered spark something like a flame in me.

Affectionate baby blues. A smile that tells me it’s going to be ok. The warmth seeps into my chilled skin from the unremoved hand on my face. I'm suddenly giddy, and I know I’m behaving like a damn girl.

“Sorry, I -”

Pausing, I think on the words spoken. Why am I sorry, and for what? Nothing comes to mind. I have done all that I have in response to how I felt.

A playful look replaces the mess my face has been since the beginning of all this. “Sure, would hope so.” Allowing this crazy feeling to drive me to bold actions I loosely hang my arms around his neck. “Or you would have a lot of questions to answer.”

“Me, answer questions?”

His face mere inches from mine.

Breathe smelling of the baked goods Tweek offered him in our last period. Mingled with the Jolly-ranchers Butters had been sucking on.

I can see the scars from years of picking at acne, the dip of a scar on his right cheek, and eyebrow. Is it from childhood fall? Or worse?

His sun-kissed nose, and high boned upper cheeks are decorated in browns, reds, and tans of different size and shape freckles. His eyelashes are long like a girl’s, as they swoop against his cheeks every time he blinks.

Staring at the most stunning eyes to ever exist, these baby-blues that hold a whole universe filled with stars that almost look purple. I think I could lose myself in them.

“I don’t reckon I can do that.” Kenny’s whispered breath brushes against my skin.

His lips are swollen from biting, but their well taken care of with tinted cherry gloss. Showing off a view of his slightly yellowed, and crooked perfectly gap teeth with a scalding hot smirk. That only makes me want to taste away that sticky crap he’s always smothering them in.

With that thought, I hear Cartman’s voice in my head ‘Fucking Faggots.’ Shit, Cartman hit us so hard on the nail, and for once, I don't care, because I'm the only one with the knowledge of just how pretty Kenny McCormick is.

“Felt the last of my brain cells leaves me there.” Breath puffing between his words, in amusement.

I watch his gaze lower when I speak.

“I guess I'll have to share some with you.” I reply.

“Gay!” A voice, known to belong to one annoying little sister named Ruby, speaks up.

We both jump, letting go to turn, and stare at her wide-eyed where she’s sitting on the stairs.

“W-what are you doing here?” I ask.

Was she there the whole time? A quiet fear bubbles under a much louder emotion, embarrassment at my little sister catching me acting like, I do not know how to describe it.

She rolls her eyes like she is looking at the stupidest thing she ever laid them on before, brushing her dress down over her knees, and legs.

“I live here stupid, and you're letting all the heat out.” She then smiles, it is what I would call, the fuck you no middle finger smile. “Were you born in a barn?”

“Oh!” Kenny speaks, hobbling over to the door to shut it. “Sorry, that’s on me.”

There’s a curiosity, and something else in the expression on my little sister’s gaze as she glances behind me. And as quickly as it is there, a dark, and uninviting look takes its place.

Reaching up, I attempt to pull on the flaps of my hat only to find it gone.

“Are you the reason my brother can’t even enter his room?” Her tone lowers, with something edged like a blade.

“NO!” I blurted out.

Shit, I can’t take back how shocked I sounded.

Looking on in horror, her gaze falls upon me, and fear once again enters my bloodstream. It tells me she knows everything in my head, exactly why I spoke without thinking. 

And at that moment it doesn’t matter if I’m taller, and bigger than her. She's towering over me, like an all knowing god.

“W-what makes you think-”

Desperately, I wish for my hat, as tears burn against my eyes.

What the fuck is the matter with me?

“You don't think that maybe, I might just come down here during the night, and find you curled up on the couch? Just because I haven’t said anything to our parents or you?" 

Ruby speaks up voice cold and edged. "Do you know, Craig, you cry sometimes in your sleep?" Eyes narrowing with her words makes her seem twenty times older than she is.

And she reminds me of those fathers in the movies about to lay down the law on his daughter's boyfriend for hurting her.

I don’t even know I’m trembling until I freeze, when hands brush against me. I stutter a breath of calm when the only thing touched is the hood of the Parka, as it’s pulled over my head.

My hand finds the fur, and Kenny finally speaks up.

“Yes, I have something to do with it,” his tone is so subdued. But in earnest, as if he’s come to accept his wrongs. And he’s ready for his execution for his crimes.

Moving the hood up, I turn to gaze wide-eyed at him. A loss for words, it seems to be going on a lot, and not by my own choice.

“You got five minutes to explain why you hurt Craig, or I tell our parents. If I do not like what you have to say, I am still going to tell. And they will never allow you back here again.”

Somehow I find my voice, with my anger. “W-wait. WAIT!”

Turning back to her, I glare. “What the fuck!”

Hearing this protective, caring side of her, it brings me happiness. But- “It’s not, I’m not-”

My hands shake with my rising frustration; at myself, and I don’t need others to add to this mess of- “Stop fucking treating me like I need my handheld. You are my little sister, MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS!”

“IT IS MY FUCKING BUSINESS, CRAIG!” She stands up, fist balled at her side, face flushed. “When my brother who didn’t even cry when he fractured his arm in two places -” Hot tears forming in her eyes, spillover, as her voice wobbles- “won’t enter his room, and cries himself to sleep!”

“Both of you shut up!” Kenny cuts off, whatever sorry attempt might come out of me next.

Turning to him, I see tears falling down his cheeks that scrunch up in anger.

“Don’t tell your sister to mind her business, she’s your family. You should feel blessed that she’s looking out for you.”

“I -”

He walks over, taking me by the front of the Parka, but not touching me, exactly.

“No, be quiet, and listen to me, Craig. That is what siblings are all about. Do not ever, ever -” His voice rises in pitch- “take that for granted, Tucker,” before, each word becomes that much quieter. “What she is doing here for you. I-I -” And then he continues until it’s so quiet, I barely hear it. “didn’t get that chance to be there for mine for two years.”

Watching regret, and sadness, spill down his face, I feel fucking horrible. He’s right, I am an asshole, I’ve had everything, and he’s had nothing for so long. At this moment, I’m merely a spoiled child getting upset after breaking my toy, and then blaming everybody else.

Removing his hands with my own, I squeeze them, in an attempt to apologize, before pulling away, and turning to my little sister.

“Ruby, S-shit, I’m sorry. Thank you for looking out for me.” I attempt to communicate with my words, how I feel inside.

“Stupid idiot.” She mutters, sniffling as she rubs her eyes.

“Don’t think you're off the hook, mister.” Ruby, points, and I turn, again.

I'm starting to feel like I’m following a tennis match.

“Tell me why or I will tell,” And she means it.

Will he tell her, and make her think we're both insane.

“I don’t -” Kenny starts, and stops. A long silence follows between us before he’s speaking again. As he does he turns to stare at me- “Don’t know if I can be truthful, it’s not just my story to tell.”

“W-what?” I’m confused.

“What took place didn’t just affect me personally. Not all of it, at least.”

And my stomach drops to the bowels of hell. Something in his words reminds me of a moment outside the house.

_~ “I dream.” Kenny says, his tone soft. ~_


	3. Of Panic, Love & New Beginnings.

At school a month ago.

“Where’s Kenny?” Speaking up suddenly to the quiet of the table, I place my tray between Jimmy, and Tweek.

“AGH F-fuck, home!” Tweek shakes as he stares at his dropped sandwich. “Won’t be back. NNUG.”

Jimmy eating beside me, hands over an extra tea box to Tweek, who takes it with an “Excuse me” for reaching over my tray.

I hadn’t meant to spook Tweek. 

“Sorry,” I speak up and sit down more gently than before, making sure to knowledge, Jimmy.

“Hi, C-c-c-raig.” 

Tweek picks up his sandwich, still twitching.

I know it will go away after he settles himself. He’s been doing really well since the first time we met. Still doesn’t relieve the guilt for rattling him.

“Fine, I’m fine.” Tweek looks at me, as if he knows, and smiles with his words.

I know he is, and then I smile a bit to help him.

“Oh, hamburgers, did you not hear?”

Leo, I've come to call him, is sitting on the other side. Beside Bebe and Red, who seem to be stuck in their world at the moment.

It's an odd group today. But a nice change to the wilds of anything can happen when hanging out with Kyle, Cartman, Kenny, Stan, and Leo. Or the excessive need for heavy gossip when Leo, Clyde, Token, and Jimmy get together.

“No,” I respond, taking several fries from Leo’s plate in lieu of the jello package on mine.

Leaning over, he glances around before his eyes settling on Tweek, sipping his tea, and staring back at him.

I find it comical when Leo does this. Even though I understand it’s because gossip bothers Tweek. It’s like he’s waiting for permission. When normally he’s so open to chat with Clyde, and Jimmy about some of the grossest and most personal things, somebody can come up with. 

Serious, you wouldn’t believe how little to no shame this guy has.

Jimmy giggles to himself at my side, and I turn to Tweek since everybody else seems to be doing so.

“Come on, man. Tell him!” Tweek speaks up, annoyance in his voice.

Leo grins, face making this mysterious look as he speaks up in hushed tones. “This morning, Kenny was in a nasty mood. I even heard from Kyle he was told to shut the hell up.”

“Ok,” It’s weird, I concur. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Kenny in anything, but a good-natured mood, even when Cartman's being a dick. And now that it’s mentioned I don’t think I’ve ever heard him speak ill to Kyle or Stan.

“Nnn, your slow!” Tweek speaks up. “He was a crazy man!! Like he was possessed!”

The words have me flinch, my nails digging into my thighs as Tweek goes on, unnoticing.

“Found Jason, BAMB! Slammed his head into the locker, I swear I thought his head was going to explode in a mess of brains and blood!” Tweek shakes like crazy his hands, as expressive, as his eyes, and facial features.

“I h-h-heard,” Jimmy speaks up, and we wait. “Kenny, kick him in the B-balls, Rep-p-eate-edly,” before he’s laughing at what he finds funny in that statement.

“I saw Kenny as Kyle, and Stan were pulling him off, Jason,” Red speaks up, suddenly full-on attention to our world.

“Oh yeah!” Bebe peppers in all white smiles, and rosy red lips. “Was screaming about what that slimebag had done. And that if Kenny ever caught him within spitting distance, of who, not sure, but he’d castrate him.”

_~ “Did you know that?” But something passed those words are ragged with meaning. ~_

Coming too, I find my legs are sore, and numb beneath me. Shoulders weighing a thousand pounds.

I don't remember moving, falling, sitting down, or however I got here. But here I am now, head against Kenny’s collarbone, resting. One hand gripping my hat between us the other his hoodie at the shoulder.

A sob stuck in my throat. ‘He knows, he knows, he knows, he knows.’ The words bounce around in my head, as my body shakes.

“I’m sorry, I wasn't there, so, sorry, I couldn't protect you." Kenny’s shaky, wet, breath tickling against the shell of my ear, as he speaks.

He rocks us side to side, arms, too many arms, at all angles, wrapped around me.

My voice a muffled sob of all my pain asks. “How much.” before gagging on tears, and snot that runs down the back of my throat. The need to throw up at this feeling turns my stomach, and makes my head spin.

When he doesn’t answer, I figure what I spoke never made it passed my head.

So, I close my eyes. It’s worse than I have ever felt, except that one time I caught the flu. It’s a building pressure in my face. Jack hammering in the back of my head, a tightening in my muscles, and soreness in my chest.

I’m chilled, yet my hands are sticky with sweat, that also drops down my back, and neck.

The hot air bouncing between me, and Kenny, is almost unbearable.

Guilty, and gross for expressing myself in this way, I try, and reach a strength to pull away. Only to open myself to the awareness of a pressure behind me, and around me, that is not just Kenny.

Ruby’s smaller arms not quite close to being able to hug me around with the Parka, are also what I’ve been feeling.

Shifting again, the pressure to my side’s moves away, before the weight leaves my back. I can hear her pick herself up, and leave Her footfall on our carpet is quiet.

Placing a hand on Kenny’s upper arm, and the other a fist holding onto my hat against his chest, I shove him to let him know I want space. I need a moment. Everything feels too much.

A muffled curse, and then I’m alone.

Opening my eyes to see, about taking off the suffocating jacket, I clamp them shut. When instead of helping the world is only bright with a deafening throbbing pain that makes it spin, and everything twenty times worse. 

Shaky hands, blind, my fingers numb, and cold.  
.  
Nothing is working.  
.  
.  
Frustration peaks.  
.  
.  
.  
Gasping sobs.  
.  
.  
.  
.

“Craig!?”

“Dude!” 

Hands-on chest, I attempt to squirm away. The grip is strong, and then my chest is cooler.

“Here lay down, Tucker, it helps.”

Reaching out, Ruby takes it, one arm pulled out of the confining heat, as Kenny takes the other.

And before I know it, I’m on the floor.

He’s right, but it’s not as instant as I want.

Pulling my arms up over my head feels great, and I don’t know why I felt the need to test it out, but the relief that feels me is breath giving.

“Hold your breath count to five, and slowly let it out.”

My chest is screaming.

“Has he ever had an attack?”

'No, but I’ve seen Tweek during, and after one.'

“No, not that I’ve ever seen.” Listening to my sister answer for me.

I practice the breathing techniques Tweek explained to me after.

“Damn, must have been building up. That’s unhealthy, Dude.” I know what Kenny is telling me is true.

'Thanks for not freaking out like I did on Tweek.'

“He’s going to be ok.”

To me, it’s more like Ruby is telling herself than asking a question.

“Sure! As long as he doesn’t keep that crap up, which led to this.”

“You don’t know my brother all that well, huh.”

'Fuck you!'

\-- Not Now, But Maybe in The Future -- 

Taking the water my sister offers me, I grunt. “Fuck, I’m ass ball tired.” 

“Man, that be a year's worth of panic in one go. I’m surprised you're not passed out.” Kenny speaks up from he’s laying against the arm of the chair.

Where he’s rubbing, and wiggling his purple, and green socks in my lap. A growing smile on his face as he watches them get dangerously close to an area, before wiggling them away.

I glare, observing him from the corner of my eye, and mumble, “Those things better be clean.” as I drink.

Kenny giggles.

My throat is raw; fuck if I know why.

“If not cleaner, they smell better than yours,” Ruby teases, as she bounces down into the single chair, she scooted over to face us.

“Lucky, my arms are too tired to say fuck you.” To make my point, I set the cup down in my lap between my thighs.

“You two are charming.”

“I’m charming. He’s a menace to society, and you -” Her playful bitching comes to a dead halt as she turns to Kenny- “Did you hurt my brother?”

“No, it was not me,” Kenny answers right away, all joking gone. “But I wasn’t there when your brother needed me. Not saying he’s incapable -” 

“He isn’t -” Ruby cuts him off, and glances at me- “not as much as he plays to be.”

“And what the hell does that mean, Ruby?” My attention on her, now.

Ruby matches my glare.

“It means you're a stubborn prick who acts like he’s still back in foster care at times. I didn’t know you when Mom and dad adopted you. Wasn’t born, but I've heard mom tell dad she wished you’d rely on them more, instead of taking on the world yourself? And I agree."

“Ha’”

Turning to Kenny, at the noise, I find he’s now hugging his knees watching us.

“Guess me, and Craig have a lot in common. Only been in foster care one time when I was nine, horrible. Ah, thanks, I guess they put us back with our parents.”

His smile gives me a sense of conflict.

From what I’ve learned, Kenny’s father was an abusive drunk who sold methamphetamine, and got hooked on his stash. His mother was a drunk who became hooked after his father started. After that, it got worse for them. The beatings their older brother, and his mother took the brunt of moved to Kenny.

After his disappearance, his father, the same guy who beat him, and told him he was a useless little shit when drunk, went out searching the town, and the local woods. Before proceeding on to nearby towns, and even Denver city.

When he didn’t find Kenny, he broke down in on himself with rightfully blamed guilt.

A year later, both his parents were sober, in meetings, and working real jobs again. His father had moved to Denver for a construction job. On his spare time, he searched for Kenny. 

And his mother stayed in town in case Kenny returned, why she took a job at the local sewing store.

Sometime during the second year they bought a house in the better part of town, near Cartman and his mother. Instead of selling the old place, they rented their bedroom, and Karen and Kevin’s room to help compensate the bills. Why Kevin slept in Kenny’s old room, in case he returned home one day.

Kenny’s grin brightens, before he speaks. “I mean. I’m like, or was a lot like that. Always doing my own thing, saving all my heavy secrets for myself. Not asking for help, even when I needed it. Hell that night,” He hesitated, looking over at Ruby, “I left -” before turning back to me- “I had big plans to get a job in a big city, and mail it back home.”

That’s the first lie I’ve heard Kenny tell my sister.

“I know, Kenny.”

“Wow! How did you know my name?” Kenny turns to me, confused. “Craig?”

“She didn’t get it from me, at least. I don’t remember calling, OH!” When I yelled it, outside.

“My best friend Karen McCormick told me, all about it,” Ruby speaks up.

Turning, I had no idea my sister, and Karen were friends. Actually, I’ve never seen my sister with anybody since getting here. Not that I, regretfully, was paying any attention at all.

“You’re that, Ruby!?” Kenny speaks up. His legs leaving my thighs, he’d just placed there, as he throws them over the couch, and bends forward. “Well, shit, that explains that.”

Out of the corner of my eye I watch Kenny's face brighten, and dull with what surely has to be regret, before brightening again.

“Thanks for watching out for her,” And his voice is nothing, but pure thankfulness.

“No, thanks to you.” Ruby bites out.

“Ruby...” Feeling bad for Kenny, I give her a warning tone.

Knowing she doesn’t know the whole truth. She believes he ran off, became his parents, and lost track of himself.

“Nah, it's all good, Craig, she’s right. I was a shit big brother, and I got a great deal to make up for it.”

Biting my tongue, I look over at Kenny. “Fine, whatever.”

“Damn straight you do, Mr. And I won’t tell my parents any of this. For yours, and my brother’s sake.” She lays up a finger to her lips. “But, promise me you will always be there for him, like you are today. Even if you can’t be there for right him then.”

Never have I seen Ruby so serious, so strong-headed, and determined for me. We have never really gotten along well with one another. Honestly, I always felt like she might even dislike me as her brother. Resented me, because our parents tend to fret over me most, even though she is their flesh, and blood.

“I promise, if he lets me,” Kenny says, his voice lighter than it had been before darkening, again. “And Ruby, I punished who did it.”

Ruby smiles, and I shudder. “Oh! I heard, the big talk of the townsfolk. A Year of suspension taken down to a month after your mother threaten the school a lawsuit if you lost any more of your learning. Is what your sister told me.”

“Man, my mom beat my ass good for what I did,” Kenny says with a huge smile bouncing on the couch, before tucking his legs under himself.

“Stuart just said I better have kicked that piece of shit's ass. I told him, I bashed his head into a locker, made sure he could never have kids, and pounded on his face a little afterwards. He said good, cause no McCormick loses a fight, especially ones they start.”

Kenny looks so proud, saying that, and a warmth fills my chest, it’s embarrassing, and I look away as my cheeks heat up.

'Seriously, what is wrong with me?'

I wish I had been able to watch that, as much as I don’t want to be a mile within that guy's line of sight.

Damn, that’s just sick to think.

Ruby makes a noise with her nose, and mouth.

“A week in the infirmary, I could have done better McCormick. Heard that bastard, and his family moved out after.”

“Oh yeah, you scrappy little Trucker?” Kenny laughs. “Does she teach you, or are you teaching her these fighting ways, big Tucker.”

Noticing how Kenny drops the last of her question. I would like to say I haven’t noted, Jason's absence from the halls, but ever since I’m ever vigilant. I take the bus, never walk home alone, I am always with somebody, or in a hallway with other students. When eyes on me, I search, and when somebody grabs me out of the blue, I find myself on the defensive.

The first time I elbowed Clyde in the face. After that, we didn’t talk. Because I couldn’t bring myself to apologize, only snapping at him for touching me.

“-our parents will have to rip him off you like a Band-Aid.”

Arriving back into Kenny, and my little sisters back, and forth, I find myself at the tail end of something that sounds so wrong.

“What!?” 

I turn to stare at Ruby.

Kenny is laughing, until I reach over, and punch him in the stomach.

“Excuse me, I’ll do what now?” I ask again, when my little sister only smiles wider, like the little shit she has always been.

“You zone out you lose out; I don’t make the rules.”

Flipping her off, I turn to Kenny, who’s grinning. He puts his hands up, defending himself from my attack.

“That’s not nice, bullying me, Tucker. You hurt my feelings, man. We were only discussing tea parties.”

“My ass.” Hissing, as I try, and kick him.

Catching my leg, he grins, and hoists it up. “Is very nice, I know.”

“Gross.” Ruby injects, as I lift my other foot to kick him in his stupid smiling face.

He catches that one with as much ease. And my back hits the couch, as he pulls me towards him. “I win, Craig.”

“Fine, what about tea parties?” I drone, as I cross my arms. Doing nothing to help, or to crawl away from Kenny’s pulling.

His face lights up like a child. “That I love tea parties, and playing Princess of the kingdom with my little sister, and that this weekend sounded great.”

Kenny jostles me as he grabs my arms, and I'm suddenly, face to face with his grin.

Turning aside to hide a hot face, I speak. “Weekend, what about this weekend? I have not said I’d do anything with either of you losers.”

“Ahhh!” His breath dusts over my cheek, tickling it. This time its warmth is inviting as his close presence. “Come on, what do you think Sir Tucker, will you be my knight in shining armour?”

“Shut up,” I mutter, taking a quick look at my sister watching with a huge smug look, and a nose scrunched up. “I’m a famous thief. I don’t do royal duties.” I give him a mock glower.

Kenny stares, before his eyes crinkle with affection. “Oh, is that why you stole my heart?” He says so casually, before giving a toothy smile.

“Wow, that shit was sappy, and kind of fucking cute,” Ruby comments, giggling.

Choking in astonishment, I stare. “I-I what!?” My face becomes a blistering infernal.

The earlier, horror it ripples under the surface. Its partner is fear, its cousin sadness, and its great aunt, loss. I know, from enduring this past year, and a couple of months, it won't simply go away. Not after everything we have been through. I hope, though, with time, it will not shake the very foundation I stand.

“I said -” Kenny pauses, a breath, and looks over at Ruby, before looking back.

I too glance in her direction, before turning back to Kenny.

\- “If you’d accept it.” His lips wiggle, from what, I am not sure. “I Princess Kenny would be more than willing to give the great thief, my heart.”

Blinking all I can do is stare, my mouth opening, and closing. A loss for words as my heart beats in my ears, this time for all new, and exciting reasons.

“Exchange?” I breathe out, something in me tells me it has to be said, even though I have no idea why.

Giving me a look, I can’t quite read, Kenny carefully speaks. “It’s free -” that’s followed by one of his nervous smiles that falls as quickly as it went up- “But, be honest,” his voice drops. “I need to know if it was real. Even if. . . it wasn't, exactly. . . you know. . .” His gaze moves over to my sister, as he talks, and then it’s back on me without finishing what we both already know.

My mind's a hazy mess, as my heart beats in a rhythm I’m fairly sure isn’t normal. Am I about to pass out? Is this another panic attack? I don’t know, I only I know what I want, what I have wanted ever since. . . 

“Yes.”

“Cool, ok losers, rents on the way. Clean the messy grossness along to a room.” Ruby stands straight, turning away. “I even give you permission to enter my domain.” She gestures in the direction of the stairs. “I’m going to watch Tv, so get lost.”

“Thanks,” Kenny speaks up with a cheesy grin, helping me up. “You going to use your manners or -?”

Punching him in the chest with a scowl, I turn around to face my little sister. “Thanks brat I think I’ll return to my room.” I spit out through one breath, my heart quickening, again.

“Ok,” she says.

I watch her watching me from the couch, we just left. I know she’s telling me more, something like if you change your mind, say so.

Giving her an awkward smile, as a warm hand slides into mine, I speak up. “Tell mom we will be down for dinner.”

Squeezing Kenny’s hand, we head for the stairs.

_I don’t know what the future holds for me, him, or if there will be a us. For now, all I can do is keep my promise to tell him the whole story from day one until he knows as much as I do._

__

__

_And this doesn’t mean I’m not scared, it means, I'm no longer hiding. Because I know that when it’s done, I lost one thing, and gained another. Something built on truths, and refuged by something more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal for this story was to dive in deep and focus further on Craig's emotional and mental state. As well as how he, Kenny, and those around them deal with the after the events of 'The Boy In The Mirror.' I hope I was able to do them, as well as original story justice!
> 
> I thank anybody who reads this, and bless all those who do more!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time using this platform. <3 As well as my first time writing Craig Tucker and the only time I've written First POV.


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